


'Captain Boomer & the S.S. Man Flu'

by lady_meatball



Series: Thanksgiving in Boston [10]
Category: American Actor RPF, Chris Evans (Actor) RPF
Genre: Domestic!Evans, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, K C & the Sunshine Band, K&C, Sick Character, airport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9527330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_meatball/pseuds/lady_meatball
Summary: Sunday brings the week in Boston to a close, but it seems that while Katie feels better than the day before, Chris on the other hand, comes down with the super flu before it’s time to leave.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings- Fluffy, mentions of getting sick.

  
  


[Originally posted by jenesuispasunefilleparfaite](https://tmblr.co/ZDTbPl1vTvoWo)

Waking from a sound sleep, I took my time blinking the world into focus. The heater was humming, keeping the room toasty and ensuring I stayed warm, while Chris was no doubt stifling in the heat; he laid sprawled out on his stomach, gloriously naked after rolling over sleepily in the darkest hour of the early morning to peel off his clothes before settling back with the blankets kicked off his side of the bed, pushed over onto me and only the sheet covering one leg and part of his ass. 

Turning gently, I shifted to watch him as he breathed in and out, each breath showing off the lines of his back, muscular and defined thanks to filming and all the action of performing the stunts the studio would let him. The barest hint of black ink peeked around the curve of his upper arm, winking back at me from the steady in and out of his chest rising and falling. His face was turned away from me, but I could see the fringe of his gorgeous eyelashes fanned over the skin under his eyes from the angle he had settled into in his sleeping state.

_‘You gorgeous bastard…’_ I thought, feeling a tiny smile curl my lips upwards as my heart swelled just watching him. _‘How are you **that** handsome passed out and drooling? What did I ever do to deserve the sight of waking up to this for the rest of my life?’_

Shifting, Chris moved his arm higher, burying his hand under his pillow as his leg bent and then it happened…he let rip in his sleep, completely unaware. 

I couldn’t keep it together, and promptly lost my shit, cracking up; I had covered my mouth to mute my giggles, but it wasn’t enough.

“Waz s’funny?” He slurred, still mostly asleep. “Sh’kin’ th’bed…stahp.”

“Are you sure you didn’t wake yourself up there, Boomer?” I cackled; he lifted his head from the pillow, eyes puffy and bleary, hair sticking out in all directions as he tried to focus on me from the other side of his shoulder. The confused frown that pinched his forehead had me laughing harder as I shifted under the covers, wrapping around him from behind.

“Wha’? No…you were shakin’ the bed an’ laughin’.” He said adamantly; I smiled, biting the bulge of his shoulder blade protruding from his back, keeping him elevated to scowl back at me. “Why you laughin’?”

Taking up position behind him, I enjoyed the novelty of being the big spoon for once, tracing my toes along the inside of his ankle as I blanketed him.

[Originally posted by shipsmania](https://tmblr.co/Zu2xuj1yIgnfW)

“Because-” I smiled, hugging him tightly and pressing my cheek against his, “-I was enjoying this wonderful view, and thinking to myself how lucky I am that I get to spend the rest of my life with you…and right as I was thinking that, you farted in your sleep, so loud in fact, I’m sure you probably woke up the people on the other side of the wall, Chris… _that’s_ what’s so funny.”

A soft groan escaped him, but he found it funny, his body shaking with sleepy chuckles; his right hand dislodged from under the pillow to reach back over his shoulder, burying in my messy hair for an affectionate scratch.

“Oops.” He chuckled as a yawn escaped him.

“That’s it, we gotta break up… the magic’s gone now.” I teased, kissing the exposed skin of shoulder before resting my smiling face there. “First you pee while talking to me on the phone, now you’re ripping ass in front of me…what’s next?”

“You’re funny, babe…” He told me on the tail end of his yawning fit; his hand left the back of my head to pat for the edge of the sheet to pull over us both in hopes of conserving some of his body heat. “You’re cold…why you still cold? I’m fahking burning up.”

“Just my feet…” I said, curling my toes to crack before lifting my feet to tuck the blankets around them to spare Chris from having to feel my ‘toe-sicals’ on his legs and feet.

“And your hands.” He mumbled, reaching my my right hand to shove my fingers under his chest to warm. “I’m stopping at the pharmacy and buying you iron pills…” He yawned but the loud snarl of his stomach talking to him interrupted his train of thought. “And a steak…what time is it? I’m hungry.”

I lifted my head from his shoulder, looking over at the clock on his side of the bed.

“Not quite 9.” I sighed. “Check out is in two hours…we don’t need to be at the airport until 2. What do you want to do?”

“Sleep…I feel like shit and think I’m catching a cold.” He grumbled, hunkering down into his pillow further.

“Poor grumpy bear…” I pouted, pulling my hand from between him and the mattress to touch his forehead; he hadn’t been just talking to blow smoke up my ass…he had a touch of a fever. “You’re warm…the shock to your emotions probably was too much for your immune system, Mr. ‘ _I’m Healthy as a Horse_ ’…” I explained, more so for myself than for Chris’ benefit, as he was already practically back to being out for the count. Brushing his hair back, I touched the back of my fingers to his cheek, leaned down, kissing his naked shoulder and neck before retreating to climb out of the bed. He never stirred, lost in sleep once again as I mumbled, “At least _I_ feel better than I did yesterday…”

Snagging the robe from the foot of the bed, I pulled that on quickly, tying it with a knot as I walked out to the desk in the sitting room; picking up the phone, I dialed down to place an order for room service.

With the assurance of delivery in approximately thirty to forty-five minutes, I went to jump in the shower, getting that out of the way while my surly, grumpy man-child got a few more winks until I had to wake him up to shovel breakfast into him.

I was standing in the bathroom, packing up my toiletries when the knock sounded on the door. Slipping out of the bathroom, I tip toed through the bedroom, pulling the french doors shut behind me and out to get the door before Chris woke. A smiling man in his late fifties stood in the hall, pushing the rolling cart into the room once I greeted him.

“Morning ma’am. How are you?”

“Tired.” I smiled, following him into the sitting room, adding, “Heading home after an incredibly long week.” I had walked to the desk, digging for my wallet in my purse to give him a tip for being prompt and delivering ahead of the estimated time.

“And where’s home if you don’t mind me asking, ma’am? I hope you enjoyed your stay?”

Looking up, I smiled, extending my hand with a ten dollar bill and a few ones; glancing to the name tag on his uniform, I saw his name was Phil.

“Thanks Phil.” I offered him the tip. “Vegas. Definitely a different climate than what I’m used to, that’s for sure!” I chuckled, dropping my travel purse back on the table top behind me. “Boston’s growing on me, though/. I think I’ll be moving here in the near future…”

“Well, that’s good news, we can use all the pretty ladies in our city we can get!” The older man flirted; his quick glance down to my left hand wasn’t as sly as he thought it was, and before I knew it, he was asking, “Pretty young woman like you, it won’t be long before some handsome kid makes an honest woman of ya…ya know, I got a son…”

“Thanks Phil, but I have a man.” I laughed softly, feeling a blush heat my cheeks.

“I don’t see a ring on ya fingah…” The older man pointed out with a twinkle in his eye, his hand pointing at mine.

“He’s working on it.” I admitted, shaking my head slightly. The older man watched me with a skeptical eye as he set up the spread.

“Inn’t what they all say? You need you a good Boston guy!”

“He is. Born and bred, and there is no chance of him ever losing his hometown pride.” I reassured the hotel employee. “I wouldn’t want him to either…I like it when he slips back into his Boston accent, makes him pretty damn adorable, and I look forward to hearing little Bostonian accents around my house when we start a family. It’ll sound a helluva lot better than my Californian Valley Girl accent, that’s for sure!” I laughed.

Phil hung around for a moment longer than necessary, but he relented to trying to set me up with his son after I swore I’d convert over to a true New Englanders wife.

I slipped inside the bedroom, walking over to the bed where I sat on the edge, my leg curled underneath me; bending to get a better look at Chris, I touched his forehead again, gauging his temperature. Still warm, and still comatose.

Leaning down, I whispered in his ear, “Chris… _Chriiiiiiiiiiiss_ …Baby, time to wake up.” He twitched in his sleep, but didn’t stir, so I rubbed my hand over his shoulder, rubbing a gentle path over his skin in an effort to rouse him…but nothing happened.

I knew he didn’t feel well, but he needed to get up and I had to move on to more drastic measures to get results. Lifting my hand, I brought my palm down in a sharp swat to his ass once I moved the sheet; a resounding ‘crack’ of my hand meeting his flesh rang out followed immediately by his snarled curse.

“ **Motherfahker!** ” Chris shouted, jumping off the mattress. “What the fahk, babe? I don’t feel good, and you’re beating on me!”

Looking at him, I showed I felt somewhat guilty.

“You weren’t waking up with gentle coaxing, Chris…I tried that.” I explained, telling him, “I’m sorry, I know you feel like shit, but breakfast is here, and you need to shower and get ready. I’ll get your bag packed while you’re in the bathroom if you want?”

“That’s gonna leave a mark…” He pouted, grumbling and moaning quietly as he reached back to rub his hand over his stinging backside. “Kiss it, make it bettah?” His accent slipped, showing me just how horrible he felt, not even put in an effort in pronouncing his ‘r’s.

Smiling, I leaned over, noting the bright red hand print already visible on his snow white skin before I puckered up and kissed the stinging skin in question; sitting back up, I connected with his gaze, raising a brow as I asked, “Better?”

His small nod was my answer but he continued to rub his ass, asking, “What’d you order?”

“Pancake combo for me, protein omelette for you, coffee, and a shit ton of orange juice.” I told him with a lopsided smile. “If you eat all your food and drink the majority of the OJ, I’ll let you have some of my bacon…”

His face blanched and he looked like he swayed, going green as the obvious signs of nausea hit him in full force. “Eating is the last thing on my mind right now, Kay…it doesn’t even sound appealing.” he whispered.

“You need to eat, Chris! One, it’ll help you fight this and recover quicker, two, you need the protein and good carbs for this last stretch of shooting in the next two weeks…” I sighed, feeling like I was arguing with a headstrong child. “And besides, you just said you were hungry!

“I know, but…that was how long ago?” He whined, burying his face back in the pillow. Rubbing my hand along his back, I sat watching him; eventually, he felt my eyes on him, and peeked one eye open, adding in a muffled voice, “I feel like shit, Kay.”

“Achy? Exhausted?” I asked; Chris grunted in response. “Well, you’ve got a slight fever, feel like you’re gonna barf?” He nodded slowly. Frowning, I took one more good perusal of him as he turned to his side; curling up, Chris folding in half, clutching at his stomach. “I hate to say it, but I think I may have given you the Vegas Super Flu…I’m sorry, baby…”

“Everything hurts and I’m dying! You’re lucky I love you…” He groaned, shifting to crawl out of bed and dash to the bathroom. His naked ass cleared the door, it was kicked closed and I caught the unmistakable sounds of retching and my love losing the contents of his stomach.

Reaching to the nightstand on Chris’ side of the bed, I picked up the phone receiver, dialing 0 to connect with the front desk downstairs.

“Four Seasons Boston, how may I help you?” The chipper young woman on the other end of the line asked.

“Umm…hi, I’m staying in room 837, and I was wondering if it was possible to push check out to the latest you’ll allow?” I asked sighing; another loud sound of Chris turning his stomach inside out came from the bathroom, followed by a pitiful groan.

“Of course Mrs. Amerio. Late check out…”

“Actually, it’s _Ms._ Amerio…”

“I’m sorry, I have Mr. & Mrs. Amerio on file, ma’am…” The girl apologized, backtracking.

“I’m sorry, no, no…you’re right. I’m still trying to get used to this…” I interrupted, apologizing and mentally chastising myself. This was the first time Chris and I had stayed in a hotel together from check-in and I should have remembered he mentioned using a decoy name to keep us staying here under wraps on the drive back from his mom’s house two days earlier…I just hadn’t been expecting him to use _MY_ name as the decoy… “What time is our new check out?”

“One o’clock, ma’am. Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you.”

* * *

I ate my pancake combo, and picked at the egg white omelette, Chris spent the next hour in the bathroom, never moving from the porcelain throne until he finally decided moving to the shower was a better idea.

Poking my head inside the bathroom, I was greeted by a wall of steam; the vent fan was working hard to clear it out, but it was struggling to clear the air completely. 

Chris was sitting on the built in seat in the shower stall, and when I opened the door, he turned his face to me, miserable, and croaked, “Kill me now. I puked up everything I had…I puked so hard I was this close-” he held his right hand up with all the strength he had, holding his thumb and pointer finger a millimeter apart, going on to explain, “- _this close_ to shittin’ myself, babe. Just put me out of my misery, _please_!”

“I’m not gonna do that…” He moaned, whining but I went on. “But I did call down and secure us late checkout. So…you have a couple more hours of sanctuary in here, Baby…I’ll make a run to CVS, or the nearest pharmacy, get you stuff to help hold you over to Atlanta. Hows that sound?”

His grunt of discomfort shouldn’t have had me fighting a smile, but he was absolutely pathetic in this state, and it was adorable even though he was beyond miserable.

“Why didn’t you tell me you booked the room under my last name? I was about to correct the girl at the front desk, Chris…”

“Are you seriously wanting to talk about what fake name I gave the front desk right nooooooooow?” He asked, voice incredulous until a stomach cramp had him doubled over once again, his voice moaning the last syllable.

“All I’m saying is, if you’re gonna use a fake name, let’s actually use a FAKE name, and let’s make sure I know which one we’re using…”

“Make it **_STAHHHHHHHP!_** ”

Looking at him, curling into the fetal position on the shower stall floor, I grimaced.

“Pepto? NyQuil? Anti-diahretic? Anything else, Boomer?” I asked.

“A merciful death…and stahp callin’ me Boomah!”

“Sorry, no dying…I promise, you’ll pull through and when you do, we’ll celebrate by getting married and having **lots** of sex!” I told him, chuckling. “And I kinda like it…it suits you a hell of a lot better than ‘Gassy’, or better yet, ‘Stinky’…”

“Some fiancee you arrrrrrrrrrrre!” Chris moaned.

“You sound like a pirate.” I couldn’t help chuckling as I said it. “Cap’n Boomer! It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“I hate youuuuuuuuu…infected me with the plague! _Oh GAAAAAAAAHD!_ ”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t find this funny, I was holed up with this back in Vegas, but with the miscarriage, I was useless, I was so numb to everything but the screamin’ shits…”

“ _You survived this… **ALONE?!?!?**!_ ” He shrieked. _“Get out of here, I can’t… **get the fahk out!** I don’t want you to see this…” _ Chris said in a panic, scrambling for the door of the shower and I took the terror stricken look on his face to mean I needed to vacate the room ASAP, so I bolted.

“I’ll be back in a little bit with stuff to make you feel better…” I called from the foot of the bed, the soft whimper of his pitiful crying barely reached my ears. I lost the fight, covering my mouth as I dissolved into giggles as I bundled up and headed out to go hunt down the items needed to get him patched up enough to fly.

[Originally posted by darksoli](https://tmblr.co/ZAP2zs1czDb2K)

* * *

It was a ten minute walk east on Boylston to the closest CVS, and luckily, the sky had cleared enough to melt the last of the light snow that had clung for dear life from the day before. 

Walking into the chain pharmacy, I took a moment to get my bearing in the new layout before heading to the cold and flu aisle, a hand basket hooked into my bent elbow.

I tipped a two pack of Day and NyQuil into the basket, tossed a couple of bags of lozenges in too for good measure, grabbed a box of Alka Seltzer Flu tabs, a box of Emergen-C packs went in as well before I rounded the end cap and searched for Pepto Bismol, both liquid and tablet forms, before finally stopping in front of the antidiarrheal meds.

“Poor baby-” I snickered softly to myself, shaking my head in amusement, “-shitting his brains out one minute, then gonna be stopped up…then back to pooping like crazy…” I muttered, picking up one box followed by another to compare, looking for the most gentle I could procure to save him from added discomfort down the line. Deciding on the one that covered the majority of his symptoms, I added that to the pile and made my way to grab a couple bottles of Gatorade and a handful of protein bars for him to nibble on once he could leave the safety of the bathroom.

The line to check out was only two people deep, and moved quickly, for which I was grateful; I pulled my jacket tight as I stepped back out into the crisp air, walking to the crosswalk to cross the street and make one more stop on my way back to the hotel.

The room was silent when I shouldered the door open, telling me Chris was still clinging to the toilet for dear life. I let the door close behind me and made my back to the bathroom, plastic bags hanging from my arm and juggling two venti hot cups, one a coffee for me, and the other a tea for Chris. I shifted the cups into my left hand, using my right to knock on the shut door.

“ _Nnnnnnnnuuuuhhhhhh…_ ”

Smiling, I spoke quietly, asking, “You still alive in there? Can I come in and play Florence Nightingale? Is it safe?”

“ _Nahhhhhw_.” Chris’ voice protested weakly, but I had to check on him, so I opened the door and stepped inside, but Chris protested. “Babe…I don’t want you to see me like this…”

Standing above him, I offered him an apologetic grimace as I set the cup of tea on the vanity, and pulled the bag down my arm.

“I hate to tell you, but if we’re getting married, I’m probably going to see you worse than this…” I pointed out, adding, “And sick kids ain’t a pretty sight either, Chris…shit happens. _Literally_! I know you didn’t willingly set out to shit yourself or paint the bathroom with the contents of your gut…My poor baby…let me get you on the mend, okay? It’s my fault you’re sick anyways…”

“You still love me? Even though I’m dying and a huge pussy?” He asked, unconvinced I could still love him after he violated that hotel bathroom so violently over the last couple of hours. I nodded, digging out the contents of the bag full of medicines to temper his fever and relieve his aching and pain, things to ease his roiling tummy, things to plug him up until he got back to Georgia and things to unplug him once he got there…

“Even though you practically farted in my face this morning, and stunk up the bathroom…you’re positively _pathetic_ at the moment…and I’ve never loved you more than I do right now, in your incredibly vulnerable state, Christopher Robert Evans.” I smiled, laughing as he laid his head back on his arm, resting on the rim of the toilet. He had enough to flip me the bird, but only just. “I’m sorry I got you sick…do you want me to call Joe and Anthony to tell them you’re dying?” I asked, trying to cover my face as inconspicuously as possible partially to stifle my chuckles, but also to block what was left of the lingering smell of ‘sick’ that hadn’t been pulled out of the vent fan.

“How long before you felt human again?” He asked softly, eyes closed as he panted; his face pinched in pain as another wave of cramps hit him.

“About two…three days.” I answered guiltily, knowing he didn’t want to hear that, but I knew what he was going through…it wasn’t pretty and he would barely have enough energy to walk to the bathroom let alone shoot scenes for hours on end.

“Yeah...” He cracked an eye open, finding me with my nose and mouth covered while I tried to pry the Imodium box and container open to get him his first dose, but he didn’t like the sight of me covering my face, so he whined, “Babe! I know, it’s gross in here…”

“But it has to be done.” I shot back, giving up my one handed fight and getting my left hand involved, which proved much more successful. I shook out the advised dosage, stepping closer to hand him the medicine along with the bottle of Gatorade, opening it for him when he took the pills from my hand. “Take these…they should get you plugged up quickly, so you can at least move out of the bathroom for a minute and catch your breath…we’ll give it about 30 minutes and then get some DayQuil in you too to help with the aches and pains…you still got a couple of hours, so you can take a nap while I get you packed.” I told him, watching him pop the pills and take the electrolytes to wash them back.

It took him a few minutes, but he sipped half the bottle down, replenishing what was lost with each pitch and roll of his stomach losing its contents along with the evacuation out the back end as well. His breathing was still on the shallow side, and his forehead was coated in a sheen of sweat, but he sat leaning against the toilet, still naked, with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist to offer some barrier from the cold tile under his ass; his eyes were exhausted, puffy with dark circles underneath as he squinted up at me, the bottle of Gatorade frozen in mid air on its way to his mouth as he watched me. I turned, looking for a wash cloth, grabbing one from the stack of the towels and running it under the faucet before wringing it out.

Squatting in front of him, I touched the cool cloth to his forehead and wiped his face free of the perspiration, watching him with tender focus and sad, guilty eyes.

“You’re an angel, you know?” He whispered, blinking slowly as I pressed the cloth to his forehead again then moving it to his throat and down his chest, enjoying the tender attention I directed his way. “Do you know how long it’s been since a woman other than Ma fussed over me like this when I was sick? Too long for me to fahking remember, babe…”

Smiling softly, I touched my knuckles to his forehead and then both cheeks, feeling for a change in his temperature, but not noticing much difference once the surface cool evaporated, I stilled, just looking at him.

“I’m gonna be your wife in about a month, Chris. I promise, you’ll have to return the favor of keeping me alive plenty of times down the line when I’m down with the plague…it’s gonna be hell when we’re both sicker than dogs and we’ve got little ones down with it too…that’s never pretty.” I told him, caressing his chest. “And who knows, there may just come a day when as my husband, _you’ll_ _literally_ have to wipe my ass because I can’t…I guess that means I’ll have to wipe yours to keep this an even marriage.” I grimaced, trying to get a chuckle out of him, but all I managed was a lift to one side of his mouth; it still counted in my book, so I took it as a victory.

“Kinky.” He exhaled, lifting the bottle to his lips once more.

“We’ve established that…I love you Cap’n Boomer.” I smiled, leaning forward to kiss his forehead; sitting back on my heels, I asked, “How you feeling? Is it kicking in yet?”

Sitting still, he let his body speak to him. His eyes glanced up to me a second before he gave a tiny nod.

“Sit here for a few more minutes, let it kick in a little bit more, then get in the shower and rinse off, you’ll feel better, and I’ll get you something comfy to travel in, okay?” I asked; his nod was slightly bigger, and he took a deeper breath. “Let me get you packed, and then we can go lay back in bed until we have to check out. I’ll call Joe and Anthony while you’re in the shower.”

I moved back to stand, but Chris’ hand closed around my wrist, holding me still.

“I love you, Tinkerbell.”

“I know, because I love you too…I just want you to feel better.”

“Come back to Georgia with me…don’t make me go back alone.”

“I have shit I have to get done back in Vegas Chris…”

“Call and quit. Come take care of me…” It broke my heart, listening to him pout and plea with me, begging, but I couldn’t keep pushing my responsibilities away.

Shaking my head, I told him, “I can’t. Four weeks, and then I’m wherever you want me to be, babe…but until then, I have to get my single life wrapped up and prepare to be a wife and mom for the rest of my life. I’ll take care of you until you have to board your flight in a few hours, but I can’t come back to Georgia, I’m sorry.”

Chris indicated he understood, but his dejected body language spoke volumes.

“It’s better this way in the long run…believe me, I want nothing more than to take care of your pathetic ass because it’s adorable how big of a baby you turn into…”

[Originally posted by ablonderapunzel](https://tmblr.co/ZQUw5l1lBUDMQ)

[Originally posted by movies-are-better-than-real-life](https://tmblr.co/Z93W2n1lznPlM)

The few hours left in the hotel room passed with Chris getting a little bit more sleep; I joined him for a nap once I had set the alarm on my phone and once it went off, we headed down to check out and get on our way to the airport. He wasn’t happy about me navigating the rental, but he was in no condition to drive, so he played navigator, begrudgingly instructing me back to the airport through down town and up to the tunnel exit bordering the North End. He mumbled and groaned, promising me a trip to show me the sights in better weather once we came back in the spring, after his overseas promotional obligations were completed.

The drive wasn’t bad, and soon I had us pulling into the rental drop off location at Logan International and before long, we were at the main counter, checking bags and dealing with the preliminary security checks. It was bittersweet, knowing this whirlwind week was coming to an end, but that allowed for the next and final chapters of this part of both our lives to begin, and the knowledge of the coming weeks unfolding into us eloping was exciting.

Chris’ flight was scheduled for 4:15PM, and mine for 4:45, so the next hour and a half was the remainder of the time we had left together until the cannonball trip I would be taking in two weeks to L.A to see him for less than 24 hours before having to fly back into McCarren for what would be the last few hectic days of working my jobs at Starbucks and the salon followed by my birthday and packing before Christmas…December was usually a busy month for me, but this year’s was shaping up to be insane.

Chris was beginning to feel better, and finally felt up to attempting to eat, so I dropped him off at a bank of seats and went up to a counter to order him something light to hold him over.

“Friendly’s…if I’m dying, I want Friendly’s…” Chris spoke up as I walked away from him; turning around, I shook my head from side to side.

“I’m not getting you ice cream! You need ‘ _food_ ‘ food…and besides, I’m not leaving you here and walking half the airport for ice cream!” I grinned; he pouted, making me chuckle. “Tell you what, if you eat, and depending on how you feel afterwards, if your tummy is up to it, we’ll split a cone from Mickey D’s, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds like you’re getting ‘Mom’ practice in already…” He smiled weakly, telling me he was already starting to recover, but he’d be wiped out for the next few days.

“Honey, I hate to tell you, but I’ve got _plenty_ of practice already…’ _Mother Hen_ ’, remember?” I reminded him with a flirty wink before turning back to get food for us both.

The hour was gone in the blink of an eye and soon it was time to head to the general vicinity of our gates, which luckily had been in the same terminal, allowing us a few extra minutes together before he had to join his boarding line.

Chris had been keeping a low profile under his hat and in his sweatshirt, hunched and folded as much as his body would allow in the rigid airport seats, but he tugged me off the hard plastic, pulling over to a space offering more privacy than the open terminal. His arms wrapped around me, holding me tight as he tipped his hat from the top of his by using my head as leverage on the bill; pressing his forehead to mine, he wanted a moment of quiet intimacy between us, and I wasn’t going to stop him.

Lifting my hands, I framed his tired face, caressing and petting his furry cheeks, enjoying the start of the beard he got to grow over that last week, knowing it would be coming off as soon as he could manage to muster enough strength to get back to filming.

“I wish you were coming with me-” He whispered, gently bumping his nose into mine, “- to take care of me. “

“I know…me too. But I can’t procrastinate any more, two more weeks and I’ll be done with the jobs, and only have the clients in my book left. Just a couple more weeks…I wish I could go with you guys to Disney.” I admitted sadly, telling him once I bolstered my smile to keep the mood light, “You’ll have to have a Dole Whip for me, right?”

Apparently my mention of citrus didn’t sit well with his stomach as he made a groan of discomfort.

“I love you.” I breathed, smiling widely as I touched my head to his again, wrapping my arms around him for a hug, being careful to not squeeze him too hard, but he wasn’t having that; his arms tightened, and he lifted me off my feet. His flight was called for boarding again over the P.A. system.

“I love you more.”

“You better go get in line…” I exhaled, suddenly sad and not wanting to let him go.

“I don’t want to…” He mumbled next to my ear before giving me one more squeeze and setting my feet firmly back on the ground. “But I guess I have to.”

We both looked miserable; it was becoming harder and harder to keep saying goodbye at airports…

“Thirty-four days…” I whispered, trying to get a smile out of him.

“Thirty-five…” He corrected, but the corner of his mouth lifted nonetheless.

Another call rang out for his flight, and we both sighed. He leaned in, hand molding to my neck as he pressed his lips to mine for a the softest, most tender kiss he could manage in airport in his state.

“Miss you already, babe.” Chris admitted. “I’ll message you when I land…call me when you touch down, let me know you’re home, okay?” I nodded, fighting back tears trying to form in my eyes. “Hey, it’s okay…FaceTime later tonight, and I’ll see you soon, back in L.A…” He was trying to keep me from crying when he was the one that was sick, showing that he took care of me just as much as I took care of him. “No crying…you’ve been doing enough of that lately. I love you.”

“I love you too. One more for the road, Boomer?” I asked, puckering my lips. He rolled his eyes, hating my new nickname for him, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity for one more kiss before he pulled himself away as the final boarding call was announced, slipping into the line and he was gone, down the boarding chute, leaving me standing in Logan, wiping my eyes free of tears.

I blew out a breath, and headed to the book stand for a magazine and snacks, picking up one of the gossip rags on a whim to flip through while waiting for the family ahead of me to finish up; I was flipping through the pages when a picture caught my eye, making me stop to turn back to find it. A photo of Chris showed him walking with a cigarette lifted to his lips, Scott and I out of focus a few steps behind him…a picture taken of us as we walked into the burger joint we stopped at after picking up Scott from the airport earlier in the week. I felt my stomach drop out, and I read the blurb stating Chris had been spotted with a mystery brunette with his brother in tow while out and about back home in Massachusetts. Instantly, I slammed the pages shut, stuffing the rag back into its allotted space in the rack when I looked up, finding a teenage girl staring at me like she was trying to figure out how she knew me. I offered her an awkward half smile before looking away to snag a bag of nuts, but she wouldn’t stop staring; eventually she gathered her courage and approached me.

“Are you the girl…was that you? In the picture with Chris Evans and his brother? I just saw him in the terminal too!” She asked. “What’s her name…Kat? Kate? Katie!”

And that was the start…the first time I got recognized in association to Chris. The floodgates had opened, and I knew I was in for a bumpy ride with backlash from the fangirls as the echo of the Cheers theme song faded in my head.


End file.
